


Stress Relief

by dawn_of_eos



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: AU, Drinking, Established Relationship, F/M, HighSpecs, HighSpecs Week, Ignea, Office Sex, PWP, Rare Pairings, Romance, Some Humor, Window Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 06:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12184500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawn_of_eos/pseuds/dawn_of_eos
Summary: Ignis is overworked. Aranea hates the Citadel elevators. Somehow smut ensues. Warning: window sex.





	Stress Relief

**Author's Note:**

> For HighSpecs Week - Day 3 Prompt: High Heels/Face Sitting
> 
> Had this idea a while back and never quite got around to finishing. But HighSpecs Week came around and Day 3 prompt fit perfectly! Sorry, no face-sitting this time. I tried :(
> 
> This turned out trashier and less coherent than I wanted. I might come back and edit this one day when I have more time XD

Caelum Via Bistro was boisterous this evening. Groups of friends chattered, ate, and drank. Laughter filled the air while the evening’s festivities began. Life was returning to Eos quickly over the last few years, as more survivors from all over rebuilt their towns and came traveling in and out of Lucis. In Insomnia, construction and commerce buzzed in the daytime. At night her infamous nightlife -r _estaurants, bars, theaters, lounges_ \- was making a comeback. And this was one of the first swanky restaurants to open since the return of the sun. 

Aranea sat on the plush sofa chairs, impatiently checking her phone again, drink in hand. The lounge area of this place was a bit more private, typically reserved for special occasions.

“Alright, so for every thirty minutes he’s not here, we take a shot of our worst poisons.”

“Are you fucking serious? C’mon, Libertus.”

“Birthday boy’s call.”

“Let’s do it.” Nyx nodded his approval, slamming his fist on the table.

Crowe glared at Aranea. “Where the hell is that damn husband of yours?”

“Shut up. Let’s just order the food.” _Goddamit, Ignis_.

“You know you’re taking double for him, right?” Gladio pointed out, looking over at Aranea who looked none too pleased.

“You do it.” 

“Nuh-uh. Tell him to get his ass over here.”

“What? Afraid you can’t outdrink me?”

“Never. Seriously though, he’s gotta stop overworking like this.”

 Aranea sighed. “You think I haven’t been trying to get him to stop? It got worse this week.” 

“Get Noct to make him.”

“ _You_ try getting a hold of pretty boy and blondie. It’s nighttime, and vacation means they’re not picking up any calls.” 

Gladio snorted.

“Well, looks like you’re just gonna have to go there and drag him out yourself then.” 

-

By the time Aranea arrived at the Citadel, it was already quite late. Most of the lights were off save for a few floors where the night janitors were probably working. She paid the taxi driver and made her way up the steps. In truth, she hated this place. Too many… uncomfortable memories.

The lobby was empty, except for the new overnight security guard who was falling asleep behind the registration counter. He awoke with a start at the loud bang of Aranea entering.    

“Lady S-“ he sprung out of his chair.

Aranea dismissed him with a wave, making a beeline for the elevators. She was in no mood for pleasantries. She stood waiting for what must have been forever, but was probably only thirty seconds, before impatiently spamming the ‘up’ button again. Eventually the elevator did show up, and the doors opened before it came to a full stop, which made Aranea raise her eyebrows. They still had some fixing to do.

Ignis's office was located on the floor of the throne room, which was a good ways up. The elevator swooshed as it ascended but came to a halt on the 37th floor, doors opening.

“What the hell?”

There was still another thirty floors to go. She hit the number 67 again. And again. The doors finally closed, but the elevator didn’t move. Then it opened again.

“Are you fucking serious?”

Aranea stormed out of the elevator and its doors immediately closed, the swooshing sound start again but the arrow indicated it was going down. She dove for the ‘up’ button, hitting it repeatedly. The sound of the elevator faded away. She kicked the door in frustration but to no avail.

By the time Aranea made her way up thirty flights of stairs she was out of breath. The alcohol from earlier in the night didn’t help either, making her feel just a little nauseated. She slammed through fire escape door stomping her way down the hall.

Aranea entered the reception area of Ignis’s private office. _Grand Chamberlain - Ignis Scientia_ , the placard read. The lights were still on as if operating during business hours and his secretary had fallen asleep at her desk.

"Hey there, cupcake. Time to wake up.” She knocked loudly on the wooden desk.

Lysa opened her eyes and looked up to see her boss's wife peering down at her. 

"Lady Scientia!" She bolted upright, blinking her eyes a few times and adjusting her glasses.

“Are you quite alright…?” She said noting Aranea's heavy breathing and slightly disheveled look.

“You guys need to fix your goddamn elevators.”

Lysa blinked.

“Oh yes, that one… err well, you see… it stops at floor 37. They’re still trying to fix it… so you need to take a different one from there to continue to the higher floors.”

“Whatever. Is that workaholic husband of mine still in there?"

"I, ah- yes, I believe so.”

Without skipping a beat, Aranea strode over to the double doors.

“Lady Scientia..." Lysa began "I don't think Mr. Scientia would like to be disturbed."

“He’ll be fine. Go home."

Aranea shot a look at the poor woman and opened the door, blatantly ignoring the _Do Not Disturb_ placard on the front slot.

Sure enough, Ignis was hunched over his desk, piles of papers neatly stacked on his desk. He looked up only for a moment to see Aranea at the doorway, and shifted his eyes back down to the task at hand. Aranea shut the door.

"What the hell are you still doing here?

"Working, obviously." He answered, not looking up, eyes still trained on the report in front of him.

"It's 11:30pm on a Friday."

“Did you not receive my messages?"

“Didn’t you get _mine_? You missed Nyx’s birthday, and I had to take five shots of Crown Royal Black because your ass didn’t show up.”

“No one told you to drink so much.”

“It’s called a bet."

"I’ve already had Nyx's gift delivered."

“We were supposed to give it to him _together_. And your elevators here are fucking broken. I had to climb thirty flights of stairs just to get here.”

“You didn’t take the second elevator on 37?”

“What? No! I don’t work here. How was I supposed to know that?”

She stalked over to him, and trailed her fingers over the edge of the desk, peering curiously at the sprawl of papers on Ignis's desk. There were a couple of takeout boxes in the trash, presumably dinner that his secretary ordered.

"What's this one for?” she picked up a stapled packet from one of the stacks of papers.

"That's the expense report from the last mission."

“You’re doing expense reports now? Instead of eating and drinking with your friends, and going home to fuck your wife? Shiva, you need an intern."

Ignis put his fingers on his chin, as if considering the thought. "You know, love. That might be the best idea you've had yet."

Aranea rolled her eyes. "Well that secretary of yours sure doesn't do shit."

"Lysa does plenty. She's very helpful." Aranea peered at him suspiciously, crossing her arms. It was no secret that the young red-headed woman had a huge crush on her husband.

“She just ogles you all day,” she said pointedly.

Well, he couldn’t argue with that. It did make him slightly uncomfortable sometimes. Where was an HR department when you needed one?

Knowing that Ignis was not about to budge from his spot anytime soon, Aranea moved back around his desk pondering her next step. She absentmindedly made her way towards one of paintings on the walls, trying to temper her frustration.

Aranea never had an interest in the arts: painting, literature, music, sculpting; whatever, you name it. She was a military girl after all. Ignis, on the other hand, sure enjoyed them. On every mission, he would scour the abandoned buildings, every nook and cranny to find books, sheet music, anything he thought of cultural value whenever time and safety permitted.

There were a few pieces of art in the palace and the city’s museums that, by no less of a miracle, managed to make it through the sacking of Insomnia. And few people, if any, knew how to restore them. The yellows of sunshine and the glowing figure of the goddess, even the crimson of the blood that covered her abdomen had all been brought back to life by a man, a former art curator, her rescue team had found half-dead just outside of Lestallum during the Darkness.

She looked at the painting closely. There was a crack that stretched along the top left of the canvas down across the length of the painting, cutting the goddess’s wing in half. One would only noticed if they looked closely enough. The man who restored the painting was a true master. She raised a finger to touch it.

“Aranea…” Ignis’s warning voice carried across the room “No touching, please.”

So. He _was_ paying attention to her.

She left the painting alone and crossed back around the office to the plush sofa chairs and plopped down with an loud sigh, crossing her shapely legs. If Ignis looked up, he would have noticed the black fishnet stockings peaking out above her glossy, black thigh high boots. _Fuck-me boots_ , she called them. The heels were stupidly high, with red lacquer lining the bottoms. He would have also noticed the outline of her nipples underneath her black trench coat. But no, he was far too engrossed again in whatever he was scribbling down to even look at her. She rested her chin on her one hand and rapped her fingers loudly on the wooden arm of the chair. 

As soon as Aranea walked into the office, Ignis knew he was in trouble. His wife was not pleased and she was here to drag him home. No matter, he would make it up to her later. Right now, he had to finish drafting the outline for the new trade terms, so they could get this printed on Monday morning in time for the meeting Tuesday afternoon. Noctis would be back by then, so he’d have to spend Tuesday morning catching him up. His mind was running away with his thoughts again until he heard Aranea plop down on the sofa chair with an exasperated sigh.

“Aranea, would you mind bringing me that book with the blue spine on the shelf there? I just need to check something. I promise, I’m almost finished here."

Ignis heard the click of Aranea’s heels as she sauntered back over to him, presumably with the book he requested. Ignis looked up.

“Thank you, my de-“ the words died in his mouth. His eye nearly popped out of its socket and his jaw dropped to the floor. She did indeed bring him the book, but here she was leaning on his side of the desk bare as day she was born, except those thigh high boots and the stockings that hugged her upper thighs. Her hair was done up in a bun tonight, her signature silver strands framing her face. And her breasts sat gloriously on her chest, the edge of the desk pressing just below her perfect - _damn, did he want to grab it_ \- backside. And she was freshly waxed. Holy Shiva.

He looked past her, seeing that the coat she was wearing earlier was now in a pool on the floor.

“Here ya go,” she held out the book to him, continuing to lean on the desk.

Ignis was still gaping at her.

“Your book?” she said, waving it in his face, as if nothing were amiss.

“A-Aranea! Put your clothes back on!” Ignis sputtered, springing from his chair. He sprinted over to the tall windows frantically trying to pull the curtains shut.

“Why?”

“Someone might see you!”

“Well, then I’d say it’s their lucky day.”

Ignis was not amused.

“Oh, lighten up. No one can see all the way up here. We’re like fifty stories up. Besides, it’s freaking warm in here. You need an AC,” she fanned herself, dropping the book on the desk.

“Well, if it’s so warm out, then why were you wearing a coat in the first place?” he shot back, peeking through the curtains to reassure himself just how far up they were.

“I didn't say it was warm _out_. I said it was warm in _here_.” She sashayed over to him. 

“Don’t get smart with me,” he warned. No, she did _not_ just take off her coat because it was warm. No way she was just wandering around with no clothes on underneath, or was she...? No. She must have stopped at the apartment first. She planned this. The cunning bitch. _His_ cunning bitch.

“Oh? And why not?”

Aranea was close to him now, smirking up at him. Her heels added extra height, bringing her closer to eye level with him, but not quite. She was still a few of inches shorter than he was, her head coming up just to the top of his nose. Ignis continued to glare down at her as she challenged him. Yet as he stared, he found himself getting lost in the iridescent green of her eyes, his resolve to be stern inadvertently weakening. He could still smell the alcohol on her from the earlier birthday excursion mixed with her usual, sweet scent - a scent he found unique to her. He could see the small freckles on her face, the light purple gray of her favorite eye shadow, the purse of her lips...

Hers was the first face he saw when he began regaining sight in his right eye. Their time together had made her even more beautiful than he remembered. As he healed, he could finally see the details he had spent so many nights memorizing with his hands and lips. And Ignis found himself even more insatiable when it came to her. No matter how many years they spent together, he could still feel these moments when his heart began racing. Her unpredictability drew him to her, excited him.

“Hello?” Aranea waved a hand in front of him.

He shook himself out his reverie. Well, two could play this game.

“Because you won't win.” Ignis grabbed her waist and turned her around, slamming her up against the window. Aranea drew a sharp breath at the cold glass of the window against her back and Ignis’s surprise move. He had her wrists pinned and quickly captured her lips with his, tongue delving in without needing permission. Aranea moaned softly and kissed him back as she returned his ardor. He moved closer, pressing the length of his body against her naked one, trapping her between himself and the window. Ignis released one of her hands then to grab her waist, feeling his way up to her breast. He found a nipple and squeezed it, tweaking it between his thumb and forefinger, making her tear her lips aways from his and throw her head back against the window with a gasp.

Aranea could feel his clothing scratching against her skin. She wrestled against him trying to get him to release her other hand, but Ignis was strong and she was, well… still slightly inebriated, even if the light buzz had started wearing off a bit. Annoyed that he was still fully clothed, she made a grab for his dress shirt, pulling it from his pants. She fumbled with the buttons, and grew increasingly frustrated at the lack of progress. Ignis was too busy ravishing her neck now with soft bites and kisses, sucking and nipping. _Gods, ugh_ , she could hardly focus. Fuck this. She yanked _hard_. The first three buttons came flying off. _That_  got his attention. Ignis looked at her, then down at his shirt. His hold on her slackened from the slight shock of his favorite shirt, ruined. 

Aranea took the opportunity to shake off his other hand and pull the rest of the shirt open, sending the buttons popping off in all directions. She stared at him defiantly, biting her lower lip, chest heaving, pleased that she could finally see skin now. Ignis was a man who appreciated a certain order and neatness of things. Clothes should be properly worn, and not a stitch out of place. Unless one was in battle, dirt, tears and falling buttons were unacceptable. Although, this probably was shaping up to be a battle in and of itself. Aranea’s complete defiance to his personal world order frustrated him at times, but more than anything, it was her challenging attitude in the bedroom that aroused him most. And if Ignis wasn’t hard enough before, he was now.

“Darling, that was my favorite shirt.”

“Serves you right.”

“You’re going to pay for that.”

“Oh yeah?”

She grabbed the waistline of his pants and pulled him to her, hands deftly undoing the belt and unzipping. Aranea dropped to her knees then pulling his pants and boxer briefs down, freeing his straining cock. Her mouth and hands were on him in no time. Ignis gasped at the sudden contact, hips bucking, and he slammed his fist against the glass. _Fuck_.

His hand fisted in her hair, attempting to guide her movements as she took him. But she refused to let him dictate. Aranea pulled his hand from her head, lacing his fingers with hers in a move to tell him she was the one in control. Her other hand gripped his hip pulling and pushing him to her liking. She moved her mouth back over the tip of his cock, tongue swirling over the head over and over again. Ignis groaned loudly, to his own surprise. Gods, he was losing it.

It had been too long since they were last intimate. Between his busy schedule and hers, it had been… what? Two weeks now? Three? Tonight was supposed to be a fun, relaxing night for them. One to celebrate with their friends and he dashed those plans by staying late at work again. It wasn’t fair to either of them. He knew it, and he felt... guilty. He was planning to make it up her when he got home, maybe also set up a belated birthday dinner with Nyx and Crowe. As soon as he finished drafting that bloody outline… She dipped the tip of her tongue over the slit of his cock and all thoughts flew from his mind.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

“Aranea… I-I… stop. _Stop_.” she released him then with a loud pop, and stood up, a satisfied smirk on her face. Ignis wanted to fuck it right off her. 

He was breathing hard now.

“You want to give them a show, do you? Well then, let’s give them a show.”

With both hands on her hips, Ignis hoisted her up against the window in a quick move and dropped to one knee, bringing her wetness to his face. Aranea hooked her legs over his shoulders, trapping his face between them. Annoyed at his glasses digging into her skin, she pulled them off and tossed them to the side. She attempted to push herself up a bit against the window, but her breath hitched and she nearly slipped as his tongue was suddenly on her, lapping at her. The boots, as sexy as they were, made it hard to gain leverage. She could feel herself slipping. 

“Ignis…"  Oh gods, she couldn’t think anymore. She had to admit, whenever that mouth of his got started, it was over for her. The great Aranea Highwind was reduced to an incoherent mess. 

“Mmm… I’ve got you, love,” he murmured against her, the hum of his words creating a pleasant vibration that shot up her spine. His hands moved to grab her ass, pushing her back up and steadying her in his grip. Her hands fisted in his hair, trying to bring him closer. Unable to resist, he clapped his hand hard against her ass a few times, making her yelp. His tongue moved to make wet circles around her hard nub, causing her cry out and slap her hand against the window.

Ignis was both painfully aroused and horrified that he was doing this. The part of him that was the solemn, straight-laced royal advisor knew this was highly inappropriate. No, highly inappropriate was an understatement. This was downright _scandalous._ What if someone caught them? The Grand Chamberlain using his office to fuck his wife (at least she was his wife). But the other part of him wanted to throw all caution to the wind for once. Here he was slaving away day and night, feeling as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders. They fought, killed, won the right to existence against the greatest nemesis of Eos’s history and now had the opportunity to build a new world. Plus, he felt guilty asking too much of Noct as it was.

Oh, fuck all. He deserved this. Ignis Scientia _deserved_ this. And he wasn’t about to stop now, not with the noises Aranea was making.

He sucked on her then, his thumb pressing against her and a strangled cry tumbled from her lips as she fell over the edge. Aranea’s legs slackened as the waves washed over her, breath slowing. Ignis grabbed one leg gently and unhooked it from around his shoulder, then the other. She was gripping the front of his broken shirt, legs wobbly, as he helped her stand.

Aranea took a step back and laughed.

“You should see yourself.” Oh, now _this_ Ignis was a sight to behold. His face was a mess and strands from his perfectly gelled hair was coming loose, falling over his forehead. His pants were still mostly around his waist, but starting to fall too, cock still hanging out.

Ignis made a nondescript noise at her mocking of his appearance, and wiped his face with a sleeve.

“C'mere,” she said, taking his hand. She led them back to his desk and pushed him into his plush office chair. She could work with this. Insomnia was always fancy like that. Fancy cars, fancy spaces, even fancy office equipment. The Citadel itself, luckily, hadn’t gotten too wrecked and much of the space and items in it were salvageable. She pulled the rest of his pants off as he kicked off his shoes and socks. Aranea was right. The room was quite warm, as spacious as it was. Or was it because of the heat between them? Either way, he welcomed the cool floor against his feet.

Aranea climbed onto him then, pushing the last piece of clothing off, placing soft kisses on his shoulders. Her lips made their way up to his neck, kissing and licking, then further up to nip at his ear, which made his breath catch. She could smell the scent of his aftershave, a mix of Duscaen pine and rain.  

“You work too hard,” she breathed against his lips.

“Someone needs to-” 

For the second time that night, Ignis’s words died in his mouth. The feeling was glorious as Aranea sank down on him, and they both moaned in relief. Gods, it felt so good. His hands were on her waist - _they always found their way there_ \- as he watched her with hooded eyes, feeling her breath against him. He didn’t realized how tightly wound up he was the past several weeks until now. He tried to lift her hips up, eager to get their dance started.

She stayed still though. Her eyes trailed up to his face, the lines on his forehead each one bearing the worries and weight of humanity’s survival over the years. She lifted her fingers to his face, lightly touching the scar over his eye that would be forever shut. He didn’t shy away from her touch, like he did in the beginning. The many scars he bore for his King, his country, the world… she’d seen them all over the years, memorized them and loved him, scars and all.

Still, the most painful one was from the day she thought she’d lost him. It was the one cutting straight from his chest down to his stomach, that still scared her. She had found him and his brothers on the steps of this very building that day, near death. If someone had told her years ago that she’d one day fall in love and marry a Lucian, she would have laughed in their face and probably even send them away with a few bruises for insulting her. If they had told her she would come to know fear - the fear of _losing_ someone, she would have done everything to shut her heart away. And she did, well… she tried. She tried to keep the feelings from creeping in, tried to stop herself from admitting even to herself the reality of what she felt for him.

But Ignis Scientia wouldn’t have it. He always exuded an air of sternness and practicality on the surface, and even seemed aloof at times. But in truth, he was a passionate man; passionate in his duties, passionate in everything he did, and for her. Something about him dared Aranea to lay her feelings bare, even in the face of complete uncertainty of the future. 

And here they were.

“Hey,” Aranea put her fingers on his chin, trying to speak, to reassure him, even in the moment of him filling her. “It’s okay to.. ahh-“ she moaned “...slow down. We have plenty of time now. The world isn’t gonna go shits again anytime soon.” 

She lifted up again and down, and Ignis watched as her face slipped in a look of ecstasy as she rode him. She was right. He needed to relax. That’s why she was doing this - for him. That this beautiful, fierce, amazing woman had chosen _him_ , still astounded him to this day. A man who was broken and blind when she found him, his will lost with his King gone. She saw something in him that even he couldn’t see. She pushed him, pulled him up. She helped him find the man he was again. And he would gladly spend the rest of his life loving her, worshipping her. 

Ignis pushed himself off the chair and lifted Aranea with him, laying her down on the desk, and he began quickening the pace. Her legs wrapped around him, squeezing him closer to her, heels digging into his firm ass as her breath came in quick, short gasps. She doesn’t wrestle with him like she normally would, their playful banter in bed, often ending with her on top. He needed this and she let him have it. He let all thoughts leave his mind then, eyes shut, allowing himself to enjoy this moment, focusing only on the feeling of them. And fuck, it was driving him mad. The way she squeezed him, his name coming out in loud gasps and moans from her lips, eyes shut and face flushed.

He was thrusting into her harder now, trying to drive both of them over the edge. The desk scraped forward loudly several inches the harder he drove. There was a sudden crash as the lamp on his desk fell over, glass breaking. But they ignored it. Aranea's hair was a mess by now with the bun coming undone and she was clutching the top edge of the desk, trying to hold herself in place as Ignis into pounded her. His one hand gripped her hip hard, while the other made its way up to squeeze her breast. She moved her hand over his, holding it tightly, while the other gripped his arm, nails digging in hard.

Aranea could feel the spring winding up again as she felt every inch of him. She was close, _so close_ and Ignis must have known because he reached his hand between them finding her again, rubbing against her in circles. She came with a shout, back arched, clenching hard and shaking. And he followed her, filling her, the tension from the last few weeks subsiding as he gave into pure bliss. 

They stayed like that for several moments, slowly catching their breaths, until Ignis could hardly hold himself up any longer. He pulled himself from her and collapsed back into the chair, the back of his hand against his forehead as the blood rushed back to his head. Aranea took the opportunity to slip off the desk and climb into his lap circling her arms around him, ignoring the mess between her legs.

“See? Now isn’t that better?” she said kissing his neck.

Ignis couldn't help but chuckle, giving her a chaste kiss on the lips.

“I love you.” 

“I know.” 

They looked around at the mess they had made. The entire area around his desk was in shambles. His desk was completely askew, having been pushed almost whole a foot from its original spot. Several stacks of paper had fallen to the floor out of order, the colored tabs meaningless now. His pen holder fell over too, pens and highlighters scattered on the desk or had rolled onto the floor. Not to mention the shattered desk lamp either. It looked like a crime scene. But Ignis was too content to care at the moment. He just fucked the love of his life senseless on his work desk.

“Come on, Aranea, let’s get dressed. I plan do more of this when we get home.”

“One good fuck and that’s all it took? I like where your head’s at now.”

Ignis rolled the chair towards his desk, pulling open a drawer, and handed Aranea a few tissues. As they got up and cleaned up, Ignis putting his clothes back on, Aranea felt a slight sting on her behind. She twisted around to see.  _No way._

"Gods, are you kidding me? You couldn't have moved those?" She gestured to the papers on his desk, crumpled and mostly ruined, at least the ones he’d been working on when she came in.

"I'll have Lysa print out a fresh batch for Monday morning. It's alright, I hadn't finished making notes on those yet.” Ignis said nonchalantly.

"No, not that!" She turned her behind towards him and pointed to her ass. It was red, not just from his slapping, but there were a number of small straight lines appearing. Papercuts.

A smile broke onto Ignis’s face and he laughed. 

Aranea stood, gaping at him. He was _laughing_. And he didn’t stop.

“I’m sorry, darling. It’s just-“ he said trying to catch his breath.

There weren’t many moments in Aranea’s life where she was completely bewildered. But this was one of them. Here was Ignis, actually not freaking out over the mess they had just made in his office, his reports among several other things completely ruined. And here he was _laughing_. At papercuts. On her ass. Astrals, maybe she broke him.

“Shut up. And let’s go,” Aranea shot an annoyed look at him, throwing her coat on and buttoning it. She was too befuddled and didn’t know what else to say.

Ignis was still chuckling softly to himself when he held the door open for her, only to be on the receiving end of a warning look as she walked out. He took one last look at his ruined office and turned off the lights, following after her and locking the door.

No worries. He’d come back over the weekend to clean it up.


End file.
